


Frank the Cat

by siqwithaQ



Series: Frank the Cat [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Animal Injuries, Cat antics, Humor, Minor Injuries, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siqwithaQ/pseuds/siqwithaQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Frank,” Hazel begins. He doesn’t move, but his ear twitches to show he’s heard. “Are — are you stuck?”</p>
<p>Frank meows sadly, and once again she takes it as a yes. Times when Frank gets stuck in an animal form are few and far between, having only been becoming fewer as time goes by, but it does happen, every so often. And now, Hazel has a wounded, feline Frank on her hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frank the Cat

It’s only a day or two before Frank is due back from his most recent quest when Hazel is awoken by a small crash from outside her room. It’s not a loud enough crash to fully shock her into defense mode — she’s used to noise in the night, from the clinks and clatters of the city, to her brother shadow-travelling himself in unannounced, and, of course, to Frank, who lives with her in this tiny apartment and sometimes wakes up to make himself dry cereal at one a.m. and doesn’t always get home from demigod business at reasonable hours (understandably). Still, the sound has her rolling out of bed to investigate.

 

She shuffles into the kitchenette to find she had been right not to grab her spatha; it was only a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, Frank’s favourite cereal, having fallen and spilled over the floor. It’d apparently tipped over from the high shelf it had been perched on, its precarious position probably exacerbated by wind from the open window next to it. Aside from the fact that she’ll have to clean up the scattered loops and the streaks of blood on the floor, there was nothing to worry about.

 

Wait. Blood?

 

Hazel’s half-asleep brain has just enough time to think, _is the cereal bleeding?_ before a whining sound comes from the mess and the cereal box shifts. A head appears and Hazel finds herself meeting eyes with a siamese cat that appears to have a couple of Cheerios dangerously close to falling into its ear canal. When it sees her, it meows again, dejectedly.

 

“...Frank?” Hazel hazards a guess. The cat rumbles, which she takes as a yes. “You’re home early.”

 

Frank the Cat shakes the cereal off, sending a few bits skittering under the fridge, where Hazel knows they’ll be hell to dig out later. She can’t find it in her to scold him for the mess, though, when he tries to take a step forward on his paws and yowls in pain.

 

Hazel is at his side in an instant, one hand on his back reassuringly as she checks his paws. Two of them — the front right and the back left — are scraped up and raw, dripping red liquid slowly. That must be where the blood on the floor came from. Hazel frowns. 

 

Frank allows her to pick him up, but she’s concerned with the way he goes limp in her arms. It isn’t like him. He seems out of it as she places him on the counter, careful not the put weight on his injured paws. Shouldn’t he be turning back by now?

 

Nevertheless, Hazel grabs some bandages from their handy demigod-style-first-aid kit (which contained a good deal more than an ordinary first-aid kit, but not as much as an _Apollo_ -demigod-style-first-aid kit) and brings it back to start wrapping his paws. She wasn’t sure how the bandaging would translate when he turned human again — his kitty paws were about the size of two of his human fingers, after all — but she couldn’t just let him keep bleeding.

 

She keeps a concerned eye on him, even after she’s finished, but he makes no move to change form, only sitting on the counter despondently.

 

It’s when he lies down, head sinking to rest between his front paws, that the explanation hits her.

 

“Frank,” Hazel begins. He doesn’t move, but his ear twitches to show he’s heard. “Are — are you stuck?”

 

Frank meows sadly, and once again she takes it as a yes. Times when Frank gets stuck in an animal form are few and far between, having only been becoming fewer as time goes by, but it does happen, every so often. And now, Hazel has a wounded, feline Frank on her hands. She sighs.

 

“I’ll get Nico to bring Will over in the morning,” she tells him. Frank makes another cat-noise, one that kind of sounds like he’s grumbling, and she laughs faintly. “Oh, you know they won’t tease you, don’t be a baby.” Then she thinks better of the turn of phrase, and corrects herself, “Don’t be a kitten.”

 

If Frank has any reaction to her joke, he doesn’t show it. Hazel grabs a dustpan and starts sweeping up the Cheerios.

 

.

 

Frank keeps on moping as Will looks over his paws the next day. He’s still a cat, which Hazel doubts pleases him. Nico is dazing on their couch; he’d started out looking off into the distance, but by now his gaze has dropped so he’s practically having a staring contest with Will’s butt. He seems so tired that Hazel wonders if he even notices where he’s looking, really.

 

“Other than the scrapes, he’s fine as far as I can tell,” Will tells her as he changes Frank’s bandages for new ones. “I can’t find any signs of what might be preventing him from changing back, but I’ll admit, I’ve never exactly treated shapeshifting-lock before.”

 

“Thanks anyway, Will,” Hazel says, absentmindedly reaching over to scratch Frank behind the ears. He leans into her hand, ears twitching, and she and Will smile at him, her in fondness and him in amusement. Nico is smiling too, just slightly, but considering he’s still looking at Will’s butt she thinks he has his own reasons.

 

“Stay off those paws for another day or two,” Will says to Frank, who meows back before following it up with a yawn. Will frowns. “I really hope that was you agreeing with me.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him resting,” promises Hazel.

 

“You’d better,” says Will. Then he turns and raises an eyebrow at the sleepy Nico on her couch. “Speaking of resting...”

 

“I know what you’re thinking and no, I do not need to sleep,” Nico interrupts. 

 

“Yes, you do,” Will and Hazel tell him in unison.

 

“Do not,” he grumbles. 

 

Will and Hazel look at each other.

 

“You worry about your boyfriend, I’ll worry about mine,” Hazel tells him. “Take care of my brother.”

 

Will and Nico both turn red. Nico starts to sputter that they’re just friends, really, Hazel, but Will only clears his throat and carries on, “Right. I’ll do that. Or rather, I’ll make sure he takes care of _himself_. I will wrestle him into bed if I have to.”

 

Hazel almost laughs out loud, but she’s pretty sure neither of the boys caught Will’s accidental double meaning. She looks at Frank to see if he picked up on it, but he’s busy giving the kitty-approximation of a scowl to his bandages. It’s adorable.

 

Maybe Hazel should be more worried about the whole stuck-as-a-cat-for-no-known-reason thing, but it’s actually a little funny. Besides, it’s not like it’ll last for too much longer, will it? 

 

.

 

“Frank is a cat,” Hazel greets Jason and Piper sadly. They blink at her resigned expression from the doorway, while Frank meows demonstratively in the background.

 

“...Okay?” Jason asks with a searching tilt of the head as he steps into the apartment. Piper arches one of her frustratingly perfectly-defined brows as she sees the siamese cat curled up on a pillow that Hazel has placed for him on the couch.

 

Hazel shakes her head, hair bouncing and catching Jason in the face. She doesn’t bother apologizing, because the day she apologizes to a white person for her hair is the day her mama rises from the Fields of Asphodel to smack her one; besides, Jason has taken worse things to the face. Bricks, for example. “Not okay. It’s terrible.”

 

“What? He turns into animals often enough,” Piper says, a playful smirk growing on her lips. “You got something against cats?”

 

“He’s been a cat for _two days_!” Hazel wrings her hands as Piper and Jason immediately turn serious. “He hasn’t been able to turn back.”

 

“He’s stuck? I’ve never actually seen him get stuck before,” Jason says, then turns to look at Frank the Cat, with an expression as if he’s looking for some sort of mark or sign, like, for example, _Yup, this isn’t your average shapeshift, I’m actually stuck this time_ written in cursive on Frank’s flank. Piper smacks her boyfriend on the arm.

 

Hazel explains the situation — the way he’d returned from his quest with a few days to spare and a few new whiskers, too; how Will Solace hadn’t been able to find a solution to Frank’s “furry little problem;” and the past couple of days of trying to take care of her injured boyfriend when he could neither communicate with nor kiss her.

 

When she finishes Jason and Piper look at each other and apparently have a silent conversation through only the pinch of their eyebrows. It ends when Piper shoots a look at Frank — who’s worrying at his bandages, seemingly trying to take them off with his teeth, which reminds Hazel that they’re probably overdue to come off anyway — and Jason nods a grudging assent to... something. Piper stands.

 

“Jason’s going to catsit Frank for the afternoon,” she announces, ignoring the awkward look Jason is giving the cat, his face saying, _What has my life come to that I must be harangued into babysitting my friend who is a cat? No, really, who decided this was my life? Juno, I’m looking at you._ Before Hazel can open her mouth to ask, she continues, “You and I have an errand to run.”

 

.

 

Deirdre loves working at the pet store, really. It’s a pleasant sort of working-retirement, one that reminds her of her younger days when she had gone birdwatching and horseback riding, when she’d been spry enough to have a small gaggle of coonhounds that she’d taken jogging with her every day. She loves working with animals, and she loves interacting with people the way customer service lets you, but she’ll admit that sometimes she does get... concerned.

 

The two young women who walk in together don’t ring any alarms for Deirdre right away, although she can’t help but be struck by their presence. They’re both quite beautiful, true, but they also carry themselves with an almost intimidating aura; confident and dangerous in a way unbefitting their gentle looks. But Deirdre isn’t truly worried about the girls until partway into a conversation with them.

 

“My friend here,” the young woman with a feather braided into her hair starts the conversation, indicating the other girl, whose eyes are so unnaturally gold that Deirdre is sure she must have those colour-changing contact lenses that she sees all the kids today with; “got a cat recently, but turns out she has no idea how to take care of it. Can you help us?”

 

“Oh, of course, dear,” Deirdre agrees, because they surely seem to be sweet girls, even if they do have the powerful sort of impression that Deirdre has only been able to associate with memories of her husband’s funeral, with the military generals who had shaken her hand and told her how Gerald had been a good soldier and apologized for her loss. “Are you looking for supplies or information? We have a good selection of books, if you need.”

 

“We need some basic supplies, first,” the girl with the feather answers pleasantly. “Cat food, litterbox, and so on.”

 

“Cat food?” the golden-eyed girl jumps in. She almost sounds surprised that she needs to get cat food for her cat. “Uh... we don’t need to get food, do we?”

 

“Hazel, of course we do,” says the first girl. “I kinda doubt you have cat food already. Or do you?”

 

“I don’t, but...” The second girl, Hazel, bites her lip. The two seem to have forgotten Deirdre was still there, which the older woman was sadly used to, working in customer service. “I know he won’t eat it. He’s not going to want to eat cat food, out of a bowl, like... like a cat.”

 

Deirdre shoots a startled look at Hazel, when the feathered girl sighs and says, “Hazel, he needs cat food. He has a cat stomach. Cat stomachs need cat food. You can’t just keep feeding him only Cheerios, it’s not good for him.”

 

“You’ve been feeding your cat on a diet of Cheerios?!” Deirdre demands.

 

Hazel, who had been looking oddly swayed by the feathered girl’s words, snaps back to attention. “What? Oh. Well. Frank _likes_ Cheerios. I swear to you, if I bring him cat food, he won’t eat it. It’ll be a waste.”

 

“How long have you had Frank?” Deirdre asks, very worried now. She couldn’t very well just abide someone being such an irresponsible pet owner, could she? She has a duty to the animals.

 

Hazel seems flummoxed by the question, as if the answer was so complex she didn’t know how to say it, and didn’t think Deirdre would believe it if she could. However, the feathered girl steps in, saying, “Only a couple of days, ma’am. I stepped in as soon as I heard how clueless she was with taking care of him. Please, don’t worry.”

 

Deirdre is appeased. Later, she’ll think that she was uncharacteristically quick to let the matter drop, but she doesn’t even notice it now. There’s something about the feathered girl that’s just so easy to agree with.

 

She leads the two girls through the store, picking up the basic supplies for cat care, with few incidents, although Hazel seems awfully reticent to buy a lot. 

 

“We really don’t need this much,” Hazel mutters under her breath, when Piper, as Deirdre has learned to be the feathered girl’s name, pulls down a second bag of kitty kibble from the shelf. “He won’t be a cat for very much longer, anyway...”

 

Piper smiles soothingly at Deirdre’s disconcerted glance. “Don’t worry about that. In fact, uh, you should probably just try to forget all the weird things she’s said. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Deirdre agrees instantly. She leads them to the register where she rings up their purchases and then waves them off, smiling, as they leave the store.

 

Such nice girls. What were their names again?

 

.

 

Frank the Cat is thoroughly unimpressed with kitty kibble.

 

“I know, I know,” Hazel says as she nudges the dish towards him. “I tried to tell them you wouldn’t eat it, but Piper says you can’t live on cereal.”

 

Frank meows unhappily in response, and Leo laughs.

 

“She’s right, you know,” says the son of Hephaestus, who has always come and gone freely from Frank and Hazel’s apartment, but has been dropping in more recently lately as soon as he realized the opportunity to utilize his repertoire of cat puns. “Besides, don’t judge before you try it. Be more _paws_ -itive!”

 

Leo makes finger guns at the cat, who, in what Hazel thinks is an impressive show of restraint, does not groan. Or at least, does not make the cat equivalent of a groan. He sniffs the kibble hesitantly, takes a single piece in his mouth and swallows it.

 

Hazel waits with baited breath for Frank’s reaction to the cat food — she expects him to gag, or spit it out, or even just make an unhappy meow. But instead he eats the kibble quietly and without comment. Leo grins and reaches forwards to pet him, but Frank swipes out lazily, allowing his claws to catch on the boy’s skin.

 

“Owwww, _Frank_!” Leo whines. The lines on his hands are only faintly red, the skin barely even broken, but he clutches it like he’s been thoroughly maimed anyway. Frank ignores him in favour of cat food.

 

“I don’t think he wants to be pet, Leo,” Hazel says, amused.

 

“If he scratches me again, I’m going to tell your landlord you’re hiding a cat in here and he’ll be taken away,” Leo threatens, fiddling with a few bits of scrap metal about the size of a pen that he’s pulled out of his tool-belt.

 

Hazel laughs. “Nice try, but this building actually does allow cats.”

 

“Why does he have to be a _cat_?” Leo complains. “Who turns into a house cat on a quest? Shouldn’t he be a bear or a lion or something? You know, I’ve always seen him as a bulldog—”

 

“You’ve said,” Hazel interrupts, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “And I don’t know why he’s a cat either. He usually goes with big, strong animals to fight as unless he needs a specific trait... Maybe he was trying to sneak into somewhere? But it doesn’t explain why he’s stuck like this.”

 

Leo has turned his scrap metal a makeshift laser pointer over the course of the conversation. Hazel can’t immediately guess why, but she realizes it’s to tease Frank with when Leo points it to the side of the food bowl, where it would be just in the corner of his eye. Frank’s head swivels towards it curiously. To both Hazel and Leo’s surprise, rather than huff at being goaded, he leaps after it.

 

After he gets over the incredulity, Leo laughs delightedly and starts moving the laser around the room, taking Frank on a wild goose chase.

 

“ _Leo_ ,” Hazel chides.

 

Leo snorts a little, but he concedes and tucks the laser pointer into his tool-belt where it can do no more harm. Frank is oddly put out by the disappearance of the small light. Hazel can’t help but bite her lip.

 

“That was... weird,” she says, watching Frank carefully. “He doesn’t usually—”

 

“Go native?” Leo prompts with an impish grin. The grin wavers and drops as she glares at him, though. “Yeah, sorry, you’re right. It is kinda weird. But, y’know, I don’t think it’s a big deal. He was probably just having some fun.”

 

“You think?” asks Hazel hesitantly.

 

“Yeah! Like, I was ribbing him with the laser, he was probably just ribbing me back by playing along. Right, Frank?” 

 

Leo reaches again to pet Frank, expecting another swipe of the claws. But this time, Frank leans into his touch, nuzzling Leo’s hand and... purring.

 

The two humans stare at him. There is a moment where all is silent except for the rumbling coming from the cat, and then Leo looks up at her.

 

“We’ve lost him,” he says gravely.

 

“Leo!”

 

“No, like, I am actually worried now!” Leo yelps when Frank moves to rub against his legs. “This is so not right! Frank Zhang is not meant to be affectionate with Leo Valdez! Not unless I’m about to sacrifice myself to defeat Gaia, a stunt that I am most certainly not getting ready to do again!”

 

Hazel almost feels like laughing at Leo’s discomfort. Maybe Frank _is_ just joking around — if this is a prank on Leo, it’s definitely an effective one. But in her gut, she has a bad feeling about Frank’s behaviour. She’s never seen him act so truly like an animal he’s turned into, at least, outside of a battlefield. This is too weird. Not that getting stuck as a cat isn’t weird in the first place, but there’s something that tells her that this may be a sign of something worse.

 

.

 

“I dunno,” Percy says, scratching the side of his nose as he stares at Frank. “I’ve only seen him get stuck once, and that didn’t really last that long; he was human again when we needed him to be. Frank’s cool like that.”

 

He’d tagged along to her place with Annabeth — or had Annabeth tagged along with him? It’s hard to say when Hazel can barely remember which one of them she Iris Messaged. Did she call Annabeth for her wisdom, or did she call Percy because, out of the seven, he’s their oldest friend?

 

Either way, she called for help and the dynamic duo rushed to her side. She’s grateful, but the look on Annabeth’s face doesn’t bode any good news.

 

“I,” the daughter of Athena begins, “have a theory.”

 

“...Yes?” Hazel squeaks. 

 

“If this is the first time he’s stayed in an animal form for so long,” Annabeth explains tentatively, “maybe... It’s affecting his mental state.”

 

“You mean...”

 

“He might be becoming a cat in his head as well as his body,” she finishes.

 

Hazel and Percy stare at her. Annabeth shoots a pointed look at Frank the Cat, who has been licking at his paws without paying heed to their conversation.

 

Hazel has to take a shaky breath. “Are... Are you sure he’s not just having us on? Like a practical joke?” she asks, remembering Leo’s theory from earlier.

 

It’s Percy who shakes his head. “No, that — that really doesn’t seem like something Frank would do. If he did, he would crack as soon as we got actually worried. He doesn’t like jokes when they’re mean, you know?”

 

Hazel deflates. Frank the Cat seems to sense her distress and meanders over to her, snuggling up for a pet. She stretches out her hand to scratch him fretfully. 

 

“Maybe if he can get back to human, he’ll recover,” Annabeth suggests hopefully.

 

“But how?” asks Hazel; she feels close to wailing. “He’s stuck and we don’t even know _why_!”

 

“The time he got stuck as a fish, he said it was ‘cause of... stress, I think?” Percy supplies. “Nerves, or something like that.”

 

“Okay,” Hazel says, “so we take Frank to the kitty spa to destress, get him a mud bath and a massage. Sorry,” she adds, when Percy shivers at the words ‘mud bath.’

 

“No worries,” he says, but she knows he’s still bothered by the memories of his dip in the earth back in Alaska. She wishes she hadn’t reminded him, but he carries on remarkably smoothly; “Actually, do you think that could work? Because that just might be the easiest solution to any problem I’ve ever had to deal with in my demigod career. I would give Frank a cat massage any day.”

 

Annabeth shakes her head, but she’s smiling now. “If Frank’s getting a cat massage from anyone, I think it’d be Hazel. But thanks anyway, Seaweed Brain.”

 

“I just wanted to help,” defends Percy. “My nephew is turning into a cat.”

 

“My _boyfriend_ is turning into a cat,” says Hazel.

 

“Okay, fair enough,” Percy responds.

 

“I’m not so sure, though. I mean, how long has it been? Five days? What could keep him so stressed out for so long?” Annabeth chews her bottom lip, thinking. “What did Reyna say about this?”

 

Hazel winces. “I... might have told her Frank is still on his quest?”

 

“Hazel.”

 

“I didn’t want to embarrass him,” Hazel says in a small voice.

 

“Camp Jupiter kind of needs to know if one of their praetors is out of commission, Hazel,” says Percy.

 

“I know, it’s just...” She sighs, resting her hand on Frank’s back. “In a couple of days, it’ll have been a week. If he’s not back to normal by then, I’ll tell her. Okay?”

 

“Two days,” repeats Annabeth.

 

“Two days,” Hazel confirms miserably. 

 

Annabeth and Percy don’t seem fully satisfied, but with a quick glance at each other they let the matter drop.

 

Hazel, on the other hand, can’t drag her mind from it, even as the conversation turns to other things. _Two days_ , she thinks, as Frank finally meanders away from her side and goes to demand attention from Percy instead. Two more days of keeping the problem just between her friends — so why did it feel like a death sentence instead?

 

.

 

Two days goes by too quickly, leaving only one night before Hazel’s self-imposed deadline. Frank’s paws have long healed and he’s taken to climbing the furniture for lack of entertainment, since he can’t exactly read a book with his little kitty paws, and Hazel doesn’t happen to own any cat toys either. She forgives him for the scratches he leaves on the couch because it’s not like he can help it.

 

Tomorrow she would have to tell Reyna, which she’s not looking forward to, but if she didn’t Annabeth would probably come and drag her by her ears. There isn’t even a good reason for her not to; Reyna really _should_ know about this, but a small part of Hazel almost feels like telling people will cement the change as irreversible. Besides, what if it gets out to the rest of Camp Jupiter? The Octavian Incident from the last war has proven the Romans can be surprisingly quick to turn on their praetors if they perceive any weakness. What if they decide to replace him, instead of trying to help?

 

Hazel tries to push the thought aside and focus on other things, mundane things. There’s a stain on the rug that she needs to get out. The television has been on the fritz lately; she’ll have to give Leo a call later. They’re out of Honey Nut Cheerios and she should put them on the marketing list—

 

She sniffles. No, she doesn’t need to put them on the marketing list. Frank was the only one who ate them. She would be putting kitty kibble on the list from now on, if he didn’t turn back soon.

 

Frank the Cat meows questioningly at her from atop the cupboard. When did he get up there? Thankfully he jumps down when she beckons him, approaching and allowing her to scoop him up into her arms.

 

She squeezes her eyes shut, burying her face into his fur. “You big lug,” she murmurs into the top of his head. “Making me worry about you. You have to be doing this on purpose. You’re too good with your powers to get stuck like this... aren’t you?”

 

Frank squirms. For a second she thinks _this is it, I’ve caught him out, he really is doing it on purpose,_ but it turns out he’s just tired of being held. He manages to wriggle out of her arms and lands gracefully on his feet, as all cats do, before plodding away from her. 

 

Hazel doesn’t let him go far, falling to her knees right in the middle of the kitchenette, reaching out to grab him and pull him back. She wraps him in her embrace again, much to the cat’s consternation. Her eyes feel wet.

 

“Please turn back,” she pleads with him, her voice catching on the last word. “I know you can do it. Please. You can do it, can’t you?”

 

The cat meows uncomfortably. Hazel knows he wants her to let go of him, but she can only hold him tighter. “Please. I don’t want to have a cat as my boyfriend for the rest of my life,” she tries, aiming for levity, but failing as she realizes that even if he stays this way it won’t be the rest of _her_ life. Cats have a much shorter lifespan. She almost stops breathing when the idea registers.

 

“Turn back. Turn back.” Hazel thinks it won’t be too much longer until she leaves tear stains in his pretty fur. “I— I want Frank. Please, Frank, don’t do this. I need you. I need _you_ , clumsy human you, with your cereal at one in the morning and your big warm bear hugs and your Mythomagic games with Nico that take up half the living room. Please, Frank. I love you.”

 

Hazel stares, glassy-eyed, at the cat, and the cat stares back at her. 

 

Nothing happens. 

 

She shuts her eyes, letting her head fall back onto the cat in her arms when—

 

“Hazel?”

 

She snaps straight up, eyes wide, because that was Frank’s voice. She checks, but the cat in her arms is still just that — a cat. It blinks at her, having given up trying to struggle out of her arms. She wonders if maybe he had somehow gained his voice back, but not his body.

 

But then she hears the door of their apartment shut, hears heavy footsteps approaching the kitchenette. “Hazel?” Frank’s voice calls again. “Sorry the quest ran a little long, I know I said— is that a cat?”

 

Hazel looks up at Frank, who is standing at the juncture between the living room and kitchenette, covered in dirt and a little blood and very much human. She looks back down at the cat and answers, dumbfounded, “...It _is_ a cat.”

 

“...Okay?” Frank seems confused, both by the bafflement in her voice and the fact of the cat in their apartment. “Where did it come from?”

 

Hazel wonders the same thing. Then she looks up, to the shelf where they keep the cereal boxes, and the window directly next to it. The window that opens to a small alleyway between them and the next building over. The same window that, she remembers, had been open the night she found a certain siamese cat in her kitchen. 

 

Frank follows her line of sight, coming to the same conclusion. “It’s a stray? Should we, uh, put up ‘found’ posters? Take it to the shelter?”

 

“It’s a _cat_ ,” Hazel says again. Frank stares at her. “It was a cat the whole time!”

 

“Hazel,” Frank begins carefully as she hauls herself to her feet, “are you feeling alright?”

 

“No!” She pushes the cat into Frank’s arms and turns to stomp away, repeating, “It’s a cat! A _cat_!”

 

Frank watches as she stops just past the refrigerator, doubling back to it. She grabs a pen and, with a flourish, writes _Cheerios_ on the marketing list that’s affixed there with a magnet. Then she stalks away again, all the way back to the bedroom, into which she disappears and slams the door behind her.

 

Frank the Demigod and Frank the Cat are left in the kitchenette, together in silence.

 

“So...” Frank the Demigod addresses his feline counterpart, “I missed something, didn’t I?”

 

Frank the Cat meows unhelpfully.

 

.

 

Deirdre smiles at the familiar golden-eyed girl who shuffles around the shop, accompanied by a tall, broad young man, who’s scanning the shelves and consulting a small piece of paper in his hands.

 

“Kitty kibble, litterbox sand, catnip— cat shampoo? There’s shampoo for cats?” the young man reads off. “Do we need cat shampoo?”

 

The golden-eyed girl shakes her head, but says, “Yes?”

 

The two of them are awfully cute. They almost remind Deirdre of herself and Gerald, back in the day. She’s sure she’s seen the young woman before, too — hadn’t she been by with her charming friend, some days ago? Yes, Deirdre remembers her. However, the details of the day they met were a little foggy. What had her name been? Harriet? 

 

“Where do we even find this stuff?” asks the young man.

 

“I don’t know,” Harriet whines defeatedly. “Why does a pet store need to be so big, anyhow? It’s worse than the Labyrinth in here.”

 

“Need help, dear?” Deirdre asks, causing the two of them to jump. They exchange a stunned glance with each other, as if shocked that she could sneak up on them.

 

“Er, yes, please,” says the young man. “Piper gave us this list of cat stuff, but—”

 

“We’re lost,” finishes Harriet. No— she’s called Hazel, isn’t she? The name _Piper_ is jogging Deirdre’s memory. The specifics of the day they had met start coming back to her. Why had she forgotten, again?

 

“Well, I can certainly help you out with that,” she tells the pair, and gestures for them to follow her through the shop. As they go, she uses what she remembers to start some smalltalk; “So, how’s Frank?”

 

“What?” asks the young man, appearing a little startled. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks?”

 

“She means the cat,” Hazel whispers to her companion.

 

“Frank the Cat is good too,” he corrects himself instantly.

 

“You share a name with her cat?” Deirdre inquires.

 

The young man — Frank — wavers slightly, then nods. “Yeah, she, uh, she named him after me?”

 

“How sweet,” Deirdre coos, remembering that she had once named a fish after Gerald following his passing. “You two must be close.”

 

Hazel and Frank blush a little and give each other small, fond smiles. They really are adorable; Deirdre wants to adopt them on the spot. She tries not to give into the urge to pinch their cheeks, because she may be an old lady, but she’s not _that_ much of an old lady. She thinks she has a few years to go before she reaches that stage.

 

After they’ve collected all they need and Deirdre is ringing them up, she comments, “I noticed you’re back really soon. How did you say you got Frank, again?”

 

Hazel’s eyes widen at the question, darting to Frank and back. “W-well, I— he belonged to — Frank’s grandfather?”

 

“Who died!” adds Frank. “And I was asked to look after him—”

 

“With me,” says Hazel, “since we live together.”

 

“He’s a kitten which is why he didn’t have a name yet so Hazel named him Frank.”

 

“And we— we thought we would only be taking care of him for a little while?”

 

“But we fell in love with him, so he’s moved in,” Frank finishes for her quickly.

 

“Yes!” says Hazel, nodding frantically. “That’s what happened.”

 

Frank and Hazel nod solemnly to each other. Deirdre opens her mouth to say something, but closes it. She remembers fully, now, the last time she had met Hazel, and she thinks it might be better to not ask her any questions.

 

She still follows the two with her eyes as the leave the store, watching as they meet up with a boy in punk clothes and too-long hair at the edge of the parking lot. He looks like exactly the sort of person she would have warned her children away from, but Hazel grabs his hand like he’s family and Frank follows suit. Deirdre blinks as she watches the three step towards a slim alley between buildings and almost seem to be absorbed by the shadows.

 

Deirdre considers her options — calling someone, following them, doing anything at all to make sure that creepy boy hadn’t just kidnapped them — but in the end she merely turns back to her work, although she can’t shake the disquieted feeling in her chest.

 

She just hopes Frank the Cat will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> So this stemmed from me going "I bet the seven is always assuming any friendly animal is Frank lmao" and thus, this was born. This is my first Percy Jackson fic and it wasn't even that long ago that I finished the books, so I hope the characterization is okay. Let me know if I made you laugh or smile!


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